Just a Dream
by lulu0814
Summary: Before receiving the dreadful news that she needs three hundred dollars for Tara's taxes, Scarlett has a dream, giving her a chance to change her life and future. But it doesn't necessarily mean she will make the right decisions this time either.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: C'mon, if I was Margaret Mitchell (or her reincarnation) the quality of my writing would be way better than this, I would be able to sell two or three bestsellers a year, get super-duper rich, and I wouldn't have to write fanfiction on this site. So no, Gone with the Wind, Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler aren't mine. I wish he was.  
_

_Yes, lulu kept her promise (OMG). I'm writing a new "happy" fic. Wee. It's been done before, but I'll try to be original. I don't understand why it's so hard to come up with a happy ending that's not very cheesy or lame. It's much easier to end every single story sadly. Now, I have more respect for stupid fluffy endings and Mary Sues than before._

* * *

"Where am I?" Scarlett thought, as she groggily opened her eyes. All she could remember was Bonnie dying, Melanie dying, Rhett leaving her because he couldn't stand her any longer, and other such atrocities. Why, she was in Tara, she could tell she this was her old bedroom. But she couldn't remember coming back to Tara at all. Scarlett struggled to clear her mind and become more awake, but failed miserably, instead deciding to curl back beneath the thin sheets and nap until noon. Rhett had left her, and without him, she had no reason to wake up in the morning. So why not sleep some more to forget him a little longer? The pain was still raw, and she didn't want to face the outside world yet. 

But the sun disagreed with her decision, and the warm rays tickled her eyelids until she finally gave in and kicked her sheets away irritably. Melanie must already be awake, she thought absently, her mind still occupied by Rhett's cruel departure and her plans to get him back somehow. Wait, wasn't Melly dead? She froze. No of course not, how could she be dead? Melly had never died! Her marriage, her daughter Bonnie, it had all been a dream! Scarlett suddenly laughed in relief at her own stupidity. How could she ever fall in love with the vile man who abandoned her between two belligerent armies? How could she ever _marry Rhett Butler_? She felt silly. God's nightgown, she had almost believed it for a minute or two! She had to admit that she felt much better now. Thank the Lord her daughter hadn't died, her father hadn't died, and Rhett Butler had never broken her heart. There was still such an awful feeling clutching her chest when she remembered the last words Rhett had told her in that horrible dream, as though her heart really had been broken and they really had married each other and tortured each other for years. Yes, she was definitely glad it never happened.

She shrugged the uncomfortable feelings off. A dream, no matter how realistic it was, always remains a dream. And to be honest, nightmares about Rhett Butler were almost a nice change compared to the fog that had plagued her sleep for a long time now. As she climbed down the decrepit stairs, she couldn't help thinking that being hungry and seeing her beloved Tara in ruins after this goddamed war really wasn't too bad compared to the awful numbness that had followed Rhett's declaration of his imminent departure. Scarlett was puzzled. When had Rhett's opinion ever mattered? He was a cad, she never wanted to see him again, and there was no way on earth he could ever be in love with her. Why had she been so affected by such a dream? She decided to clean up her jumbled up thoughts some other time. Maybe tomorrow, if she could. Not that a scary and strange dream was high on her priorities when she had so many mouths to feed and so much work to do.

Nevertheless, she felt a lot happier seeing Melanie's beaming face that morning than ever before, and slightly less excited about meeting Ashley than usual.

* * *

Was it really just a dream? 

Now that she thought of it, it might well be a premonition. When Will had told her they needed three hundred dollars to pay the taxes... To be honest, she had nearly fainted. Three hundred! The exact same sum that stinking Yankee Wilkerson had asked in the dream! Oh Lord. Maybe it was just a frightening coincidence. She sure hoped so.

Three Hundred! How in the world would she get the money? She couldn't lose Tara. She would starve every single person in the house including herself rather than lose her beloved home.

Should she go ask Ashley for his opinion? Scarlett was sure that Ashley's suggestions would be useless, and was immediately shocked by her own thoughts. This was so unthinkable, how could Ashley be useless? She loved him, and in her eyes he had been nothing short of perfect. It wasn't Ashley's fault if he was... well, not very good at making money. He simply hadn't been bred for rough work, he was elegant, refined, and he...

Oh, she would just go and ask him, whether his reply was helpful or not. After all, he was a man, men always understood such things better than women.

"Ashley?" Scarlett called, shivering under her shawl.

Ashley put his ax down. "They say Abe Lincoln got his start splitting rails. Just think of what heights I may climb!" He said almost cheerfully as she went up to him.

"Oh, don't talk like that." She was quite irritated by his careless remark, and had no idea why. She hurriedly told him of the situation while Ashley listened intently and said absolutely nothing as she spoke.

"Well, where do you suggest we get this money?" She finally asked, when Ashley kept silent.

He smiled weakly. "In all these months since I've been home I've only heard of one person, Rhett Butler, who actually has money."

Scarlett was about to snap at him crossly for even mentioning this skunk, but something stopped her. Rhett Butler? Rhett Butler... Scarlett could feel an plan burgeoning in her cunning mind. Something about green velvet... She struggled to remember while Ashley droned on.

"I wonder what will happen to everybody in the South, not only us at Tara. In the end what will happen will be what has happened whenever a civilization breaks up. The people who have brains and courage come through, and the ones who haven't are..."

Scarlett felt a tired feeling creeping over her. Ashley wasn't being any help, and she had wasted her time asking him his opinion. There he was, talking nonsense about civilizations breaking up, when what she needed was advice on how to earn a large sum of money as quickly as possible. But he had inadvertently given her an idea.

What had she done in the dream? She had gone to Rhett Butler in a green dress made of curtains and tried to make him marry her, and when that didn't work she had married Frank Kennedy as an alternative. How could she ever marry Frank Kennedy, of all men, was beyond her. His fussy manners had always annoyed Scarlett, and she could not be sure Frank really had as much money as she needed. If he could save Tara, though, she would be unspeakably grateful.

But there was still Rhett. She couldn't trick him into paying her, she knew it. The dream had been right about the fact that he could always see through her pretenses no matter how well she lied, and if she was prancing about in a beautiful green dress when her skin was sunburned and her hands were blistered hideously, he would find out straight away that she was lying and she wouldn't get a penny out of him. Instead, she had to tell him bluntly that she needed money desperately, to beg him if needed, and assure him that she would pay him back later with interests. She did not particularly like the idea. Her pride would never let her accept his charity, yet she could not think of anything better to do. No, it wouldn't be charity, she thought to reassure herself. I only want to borrow some money, and I would repay him. But the fact that a cad like Rhett Butler would give her money out of the kindness of his wicked heart was highly unlikely. He wouldn't want to marry her, of course, and she wasn't pretty enough anymore for him to want her even as a mistress. But she had to take a chance, however farfetched was the idea of Rhett helping her, and if he ignored her plea because Scarlett had slapped him, there would still be Frank Kennedy. Maybe she _should_ make the green dress just in case she had to flirt with Suellen's fiancé.

* * *

_It's pretty short, isn't it? I like short first chapters for some reason. I don't know how long this fic is going to be yet, and I'm not even sure if I like the fact that it's gonna be happy ending (but it is, all because of missysammy). _


	2. Chapter 2

_Yes, I know, I should update quicker, I'm sorry. I had finals and I was stuck with no internet connection during Christmas break and now I have to squeeze out an update in two days, so I guess I have some kind of reason for not writing anything for such a long time. Alright, enough excuses, I'll start writing the actual thing now. _

* * *

Scarlett stood outside the firehouse that had recently been transformed into a prison, too frightened by the blue uniforms to enter. How strange that she had not hesitated to kill a Yankee, but was not even courageous enough to talk to one. The fact that Rhett Butler had been arrested just like in her dream added to her bewilderment. How could it be? How could a stupid little dream about her marrying a man she despised predict the future? She shook her head. It was impossible. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Her superstitious side was playing tricks on her. She had to stick with common sense, and common sense told her that it was all a big coincidence.

She took a resolute breath, plastered some confidence on her visage, and walked towards the gate until a soldier stopped her.

"What is it Ma'am?" asked the man in an accent that sounded very queer to Scarlett. His voice was quite pollte, and Scarlett became less nervous.

"I want to see a man in there-he is a prisoner."

While a soldier took her to the headquarters, Scarlett was assailed by memories. Why, she had danced all night at balls organized in that lovely old house. Now the wallpaper was torn and the building was full of bluecoats. Even though they were nice to her, Scarlett cringed each time she saw anyone wearing a blue uniform. And the idea that Rhett Butler was confined in that old firehouse was so ridiculous! Rhett Butler, well dressed and well mannered Rhett who was always ahead of everyone? How in the world could some stupid Yankees hang him? Impossible.

Oh Lord, what in the world should she say to Rhett? She suddenly realized she didn't know what to say to him at all. Rhett, I missed you, I'm sorry I slapped you, and by the way I need 300 dollars? No, that wouldn't do at all.

* * *

Scarlett still had no idea what to say to Rhett as he grabbed her hands and kissed her cheek without her permission. 

"My darling little sister!" Rhett said, looking very amused. Scarlett tried to hide her smile. He seemed pleased to see her. Maybe his good mood would make him feel more generous.

"Well, Scarlett, I can't say you look very tidy today." He said, throwing a deprecating look at her patched old clothes. "Did the Yankees not only crush our boys in gray's overlarge ego but also steal all the southern belles' dresses?"

"Oh Rhett, don't be so mean, this is one of the only dresses I have left." She replied, already regretting she had not put on the green velvet dress. It was horrible to have a man like Rhett insulting her like this.

"My, if I needed anything to make me realize that the Old South has perished, seeing you in such rags would convince me immediately."

"Yes, well you're not looking all that neat yourself. How could you let those Yankees capture you? What did you do to get locked up anyway? Kill a Negro and hide all the confederates' money for yourself? And are you really going to be hanged?" She was trying to change the subject and she felt that Rhett knew it.

He smiled. "They might hang me and they might not, thank you for your concern. My killing negroes is none of your business, and I know you're not interested in the crimes I commit against uppity darkies anyway. Now tell me the truth Scarlett, why are you visiting me? I admit I hope it's because you missed me, but I'm afraid that would be wishful thinking."

"I did miss you. A little." She teased, without mentioning the fact that she had absolutely hated him for months or that she had had a dream about the two of them marrying. "I know you're way too smart to let those horrible men kill you. But the real reason I'm here Rhett, is because I need money. Three hundred dollars. The taxes are so high because our old overseer wants to buy the house, and you know I can't lose Tara, it's my home." She hesitated. "I would pay you back, I promise." She peered at his face but his expression was unreadable.

"Why don't you let the farm go? You could live with Miss Pittypat, you own half the house."

"God's nightgown, Rhett, how can I let Tara go? It's my home. And I won't let it go. Please, if you'll just let me borrow three hundred dollars from you…" She glanced at him pleadingly but his face was still undecipherable. She grew more uneasy.

He stayed silent for a moment. "How bad are things at Tara?" He finally asked. His voice was soft and smooth.

"Oh, it's awful! Father is…he…he's not been himself since my mother died. He just sits and waits for her all day long and he can't help me any. I… we've been just this side of starvation, to be honest. Oh, you don't know! We've never had enough to eat and yet there are thirteen people to feed! And we need some warm clothes since we haven't got any, and the children are always cold and sick, and we don't have any field hands left so I had to plough and pick the cotton that was left, and…"

Before she could go on, Rhett took her hands in his once more and inspected them more carefully. His blank expression transformed into a look of deep disgust. Scarlett became frightened. Rhett looked at her hands furiously, as though these hands were worse than Appomattox and Gettysburg combined. She hurriedly took her hands out of his grip. Was he repulsed by her hands? She looked at them imperceptibly. They were so sunburned they had turned brown, and rough with blisters, calluses and scars. They looked more like a poor white's hands than a lady's. Her hopes sank. Was Rhett disgusted with her? Disgusted to see that pretty, young, and charming Scarlett O'Hara was working like a field hand for her survival? He won't give me the money, she thought. She simply was not pretty enough anymore to be of interest to him. Maybe she should have worn the green dress after all, that way her pride wouldn't be so hurt and Rhett wouldn't look at her so angrily like he was doing right now. She expected him to dismiss her with contempt at any moment now and her thoughts were already turning to Frank Kennedy and a plan to ensnare him, however unwilling she was at the thought of marrying this man.

"Scarlett." Scarlett's head snapped up. His tone was gentle, which surprised her, and she could hear a faint sadness in his voice. Anger had departed from his face, and was replaced by something that looked similar to pity. Scarlett's hopes soared again. Would he give her the money after all? "I haven't any money in Atlanta. Not a dollar. I do have some, of course, but it's not here. If a tried to draw a draft on it the Yankees would be on me like a duck on a June bug and neither of us would get it. I'm sorry my dear, but I'm afraid you'll have to get your money someplace else."

Why did Rhett reanimate her hope just to let her down once more? No, she shouldn't blame him, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't. If he tried to get the money, he'd be hanged and the taxes still wouldn't be paid. Anyhow, she should have known Rhett couldn't get the money for her. It said so in the dream.

God, not that dream again, she thought wearily. Scarlett sunk in a chair and buried her head in her hands."How soon do you need to pay the taxes?" He went on.

"As soon as possible." She answered, barely listening.

"I could try to get out, I have some friends high in the Federate Government and I could blackmail them. Then I'd get the money out of Liverpool and you'd have your taxes paid. But it would probably take too long of a time and you and your family would be kicked out of the plantation before I can manage to escape from this old place. Can you wait a month or two?"

"No. That's too long." Well, at least the man was trying. She ought to feel grateful for that at least. Maybe he really was in love with her... Great balls of fire, what was she thinking?

"I guess I'll have to marry that Frank Kennedy." She laughed bitterly. "Suellen will kill me for it. But I do have to get the money from somewhere, don't I? And you're about the only man I could ever get a loan out of without marrying immediately." She tied her tattered bonnet on. "Goodbye Rhett, try not to get hanged by those damn Northerners."

"Frank Kennedy." He murmured. Anger flickered briefly in his eyes, but he quickly smiled. "I see you still aren't afraid of being wed to men you don't love. Well, congratulations on your upcoming marriage Mrs. Hamilton. I'm certain you won't have any trouble making him propose to you, with all the experience you have in charming men. Unfortunately I will probably not be able to attend the ceremony for reasons you are already aware of, but I'm sure you will make a... charming couple."

Scarlett wondered why his hands were pushed into his pockets in tight fists as though he was enraged about something. Rhett was grinning and his words, as usual, were dripping with sarcasm. He didn't look very angry at all. But she ignored this, thinking that it was just another one of this man's many pecularities, and as she went out Rhett shouted "Scarlett, do you realize that this is the first time we've had a conversation without you becoming mad at me?"

Scarlett couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Scarlett waddled along in the mud, the rain drenching her to the bones and making her feel even more miserable than she should. She almost wished that the dream would be right again, that Frank would come splashing along in his buggy and save her from the deluge so she wouldn't have to walk all the way home. And surely enough, she heard a splashing of hooves behind her. The buggy slowly pulled over, and as she had expected the driver peering at her from the vehicle was none other than the bewhiskered Mr. Kennedy. Scarlett forced a smile with difficulty.

"Surely it can't be Miss Scarlett!" Frank said with pleasure, astonishment, and an embarassed little cough.

"Oh, Mr. Kennedy! I was never so glad to see anybody in my life!" She cried back with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

* * *

_If there's a typo anywhere, please tell me, as usual. _

_What ifs are fun to write. They're easier than actual sequels at least. Hey, I'm pretty sure this is the chapter with the shortest author notes I've ever written. You guys should be happy._


	3. Chapter 3

_I hate writer's block. And homework._

* * *

A man entered the dark stuffy shop, and the ray of sunshine passing through the open door momentarily illuminated the dust floating in the air. Scarlett jumped, surprised by the noise and the cold breeze the visitor had brought in.

"My dear Mrs. Kennedy." Rhett said with good humor, walking towards her with a big smile. "My _dear _Mrs. Kennedy."

Scarlett smiled and put the ledger back on the table. "Why, Captain Butler, I didn't expect to see you so soon. I suppose you blackmailed some poor man high up in the union who sold rifles and hoop skirts to you during the war?"

Rhett laughed uproariously. "I'm starting to think you might know me a bit too well, Scarlett. You're right, I did threaten one of my Yankee pals that I would reveal to everyone just how patriotic he was if he didn't get me out of that dump they called a prison. I hope my escape was quick enough for your tastes."

"Rhett, how very kind of you! Breaking out of jail just for me! You are so incredibly heroic! It sure does some good for a silly country girl's vanity to know a man like you cares for her." She said in her best southern belle voice, batting her eyelashes exaggeratingly.

"You are married now and you aren't allowed to flirt with handsome men like me anymore unless you want the old guard to start talking about you." He replied nonchalantly, a grin playing on the corners of his lips.

"Oh, they already talk about me. It won't make much of a difference if I give them one more subject of conversation. But let's be serious now, I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me for what? What did I do?"

"I… don't know, nothing. but I just wanted you to be aware of the fact that I feel grateful for… you helping… trying to help me." Rhett would laugh at her now, most likely.

"You're very welcome my dear, though I don't feel I deserve such praise." He sank down heavily in a chair and looked at Scarlett while taking out his cigar case. There was no sarcasm in his words. "I did not do a single thing to help, and for that I must apologize. I must say it is partly my fault that you had to engage into yet another loveless marriage with a man you despise. Was it worth it, at least? How are you doing financially? Is the wolf still at the door in Tara or did Frank have enough to pay up?"

Oh, If only Rhett could always be so kind to her. If only they could have nice conversations where he wouldn't try his best to insult her with every single word he uttered more often. "The taxes are paid, thank the Lord. I just wonder how I'll do it next year. I mean look at the shop, Frank should have cleaned the junk ages ago but instead he simply left it in big piles and lets dust cover everything. How much money he's losing because of it, I wonder. What if the shop doesn't earn enough for next year's taxes? What shall I do then?"

"How much do you want?" Rhett asked bluntly, lighting his cigar.

"I never said I needed your money." She hurriedly replied. Rhett chuckled softly. "But now that you mention it, I could use some right now. There is a sawmill I'd like to buy, and we haven't got enough for it anymore. If you would give me a loan, I think I could buy it cheap, and I'll also need two wagons and two mules to…"

"A sawmill?"

"Yes, and I would give you interest."

"And whatever would I do with a sawmill?"

"Make money of course! With everyone rebuilding in this town, think of all the lumber I could sell! There so much to make! And I promise I'd pay you back as soon as I'm able to."

"You would run that mill by yourself? Don't tell me good old Frank consented to let you plunge into such unlady-like activities?"

"Fiddle-dee-dee. I don't need his approval to do anything. Now, will you give me the money?"

He looked amused. "Sometimes I wonder how a sweet little face like yours can hide such a shrewd mind. Don't be angry, my dear, I _will_ give you the money." He said when Scarlett's brow furrowed. "Goodness, I can't believe how easily offended you are. Don't worry about any lack of enthusiasm on my part, you know I'm not the kind of man who believes females' sole purpose in life is being decorative and raising children. If you want to become a business woman, so be it, I'll back you up. Of course you'll have to explain to your poor husband how you acquired enough money to buy your mills, but that's another story and absolutely none of my business."

"Oh, I know. I planned everything. I'll give you my earbobs, and I'll tell Frank I sold them to you and…"

"But I do have conditions. If you use my money to buy yourself some pretty frocks and new carriages, you can take it with my blessing. But if you buy a new pair of breeches for Ashley…"

Not again, she thought. Why did Rhett abort this subject? Just when they were having a nice and civil conversation for once, he had to bring up Ashley just to ruin it all.

"Why can't you accept the fact that I'm in love with him and that it's not going to change? I love him. I just do. You don't understand how much I love him. You can't understand the type of love we share for each…"

"Oh, spare me your long speeches about love, I beg you. I'm tired of hearing you speak such nonsense. Honestly, how such a smart woman can fall for a man with no backbone like Wilkes is beyond my comprehension."

A few months ago she would have defended herself vehemently, gotten enraged at Rhett, and in the end they both would have been mad at each other. Yet Scarlett had to admit that because of the dream, her love for Ashley had been shaken. She was now sure that her love was unrequited and had no chance of whatsoever against weak and sweet little Mrs. Wilkes, but after loving him since she was fourteen, she simply was not able to let him go. Ashley's weakness and cowardice had been grating on her nerves lately when he had seemed utterly perfect and unearthly not so long ago, and this sudden change frightened her. Great balls of fire, it was just a dream! A silly nightmare! How could her beautiful love be tarnished by something as insignificant? But for an unknown and most likely foolish reason, the dream wasn't insignificant to her.

"Scarlett?" She realized she had been looking at Rhett's face blankly for an unnatural amount of time, too lost in her thoughts to notice the puzzlement slowly settling on his features. Embarrassed, she looked away quickly. What should she tell him?

"I don't know why I love him either." She said. "It's… it's a habit maybe. You know, during the war, I thought about him a lot. Those memories kept me alive, they kept me going. I had a reason to fight then, and so I fought. Tara and Ashley, they are the reasons I haven't been licked yet. You know I'd be ready to do any crazy thing destiny decides to throw at me for Tara's sake, and so it is for Ashley too. But then one morning I discover that I loved a man who would never loved me back, who was as scared and lost as I am, if not much more, and that the person I should have cared for all along instead of him is… Melanie, the woman I've envied and hated since I was sixteen. I start thinking that maybe I've imagined Ashley's love for me and that my imagination kept me from seeing his real love, the one for Melly. How am I supposed to deal with that? I don't want to deal with it, so I won't. It's that simple. I'll go on loving that hollow shell of a man even if he really loves his wife, and I'll go on despising his wife even when deep down I really don't, and I'll go on being a selfish vixen that lives life for money even if you... Even if anyone... My love for Ashley is one of the only beautiful things I've got left, Rhett, and I've lost too many beautiful things because of that wretched war to give it up anymore." Scarlett looked up anxiously to see his reaction, and looked down again when she started blushing.

They sat in silence.

"Why are you telling me all that, my dear?" Rhett finally said, twirling a cigar between his fingers and averting her eyes.

Scarlett was very dismayed. First, why on earth did she pour out all those secrets to him? Some of those she couldn't even admit to herself yet, and now Rhett knew everything. Well, not quite everything, but nearly. And secondly, why was Rhett reacting so strangely? She would have expected triumph, sarcasm, mockery, I-told-you-sos. Not this indifference, like he really wasn't interested at all by what she had said. After all, they _were_ her deepest secrets. And after all... No, the idea of marrying Rhett was stupid. If he did love her (which he almost certainly did not), he wouldn't react indifferently.

"I don't know." She mumbled. "I shouldn't have told you anything."

"So, you don't love Ashley Wilkes?" There was the faintest trace of jeering in his voice.

"No… I mean yes… I don't know. Maybe?… It's hard to… I don't think I'll answer that just yet."

"Think about it, Scarlett. You can answer me later." He looked outside. "Now, about that mill you wanted to buy, how much do you suppose it will cost?"

"I don't know quite how much I'll need." She was glad he had changed the subject.

"No matter. Show me a dimple and I'll buy you all the sawmills in Georgia if you ask for them." Scarlett smiled. Had Rhett decided to be nice after all? "Now I haven't seen such a pretty smile since God knows how long. The thought of money must really make you feel cheerful." Scarlett decided to ignore his last jibe. She didn't want to start an argument. And she didn't want to know why she didn't want to start an argument.

"Let's go to the mills, Rhett."

"Now? In this rain?"

"What's a little rain? Now let's hurry before that pouring becomes even worse. Don't you want to see I'll put your money to what use, Rhett?"

"I think you are scared I'll change my mind, and you want to buy everything as soon as possible in case I have scruples."

"That too."

He laughed so loudly he startled the counter boy, who looked at him suspiciously. "Lead the way, my dear." He said as he opened the door for her.

* * *

_Finally it's done. GAWD. I haven't uploaded for how long? I'm really sorry, school was even more horrid than usual and I never seemed to be able to write properly when I did have the time to do it. You've no idea how uninspired I was. I was going to write the beginning with Scarlett's wedding but it was awful and I cut it out. I can't believe Scarlett is dumb enough to marry Frank Kennedy either, but I do need to keep her slightly in character you know. Hopefully I know what I'm doing.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chinese New Year break is about my favorite thing in this place. I've heard that no one could ever sleep on New Year's Eve because of the sound of the firecrackers though. And it's true not just for New Year's eve. Anyways, now that I've actually got time to write, that's what I'll try to do, and if this chapter sucks, don't blame me, blame… someone else. I don't know. _

_I hope this thing won't take too long._

* * *

Scarlett _tried_ to be kind and patient towards Frank. The man had saved Tara, although unwillingly, and she ought to feel appreciative to some extent. But no. She felt grateful towards Rhett, the worst man she knew, for buying the sawmill, but she was repulsed by Frank, her own respectable and upright husband. Sometimes she thought that marrying anyone would have been better than Frank, even Charles, even one of her old beau form the county, maybe even Rhett would have done a better job. She always cringed when such a thought crossed he mind, which was more often than she liked. No, no, not Rhett. A marriage with Rhett would end in disaster, she was convinced of it, and she would rather survive another war than live through all that. Maybe God had sent the dream to warn her against Rhett. Maybe marrying Frank wasn't so bad after all. 

But the man's fussy manners and his spinelessness and his straggly whiskers and the manner he called her sugar all the time and the way he… the most insignificant little thing sufficed to annoy her. It was so hard to keep her temper down and smile sweetly during breakfast when all Frank did in return was pester her about how unwomanly it was for his wife to win money when he didn't.

Each time Scarlett mentioned the Ku Klux Klan to Frank, which was rather often, he became shifty and looked anywhere but at her face.

"Are you part of the Klan, Frank?"

"Of course not Sugar. Now don't you worry your pretty little head about me and do worry a bit more about yourself. Those mills of yours…"

"Don't change the subject. Will you swear to God that you aren't in the Klan?"

"Of course darling, I would never."

"The Klan is so dangerous, you could get killed, and then what shall I do with your baby?"

He looked alarmed. "Oh, I won't be killed, I promise you."

"I'm still not sure I should believe you. Frank, is Ashley in the Klan?"

"For Heaven's sake, Sugar, will you stop asking questions about the Klan?" Even mild-mannered Frank was irritated by her nagging in the end.

Scarlett had taken her second pregnancy a lot better than her first one, though she had been terrified by Tony's sudden arrival and equally sudden departure. It had made her more money grabbing than ever, she had to admit it, but she was not quite as repulsed by the idea of giving birth as she had been at seventeen. The dream might not have influenced her life all that much yet, but it had warned her of this calamity, which meant that it wasn't much of a shock when the dream proved to be right yet again. She simply bore the pain with no words. She was used to her dream coming true by now. She tried to ignore most of time to persuade herself she wasn't crazy, but often she would have a strange feeling of deja-vu during a perfectly normal day before she realized she had dreamed some of those events before. It annoyed her tremendously. Scarlett also suspected that Rhett drove her buggy for her because of her pregnancy. It was very sweet of him, (who would have expected this from Rhett Butler?) but she couldn't help feeling embarrassed in his presence. She knew she was becoming fatter and uglier each day, and if any man could notice her hideous appearance, or even worse comment on it, it was Rhett.

But each time she saw him, he simply smiled at her in that irritatingly impudent way of his and she couldn't help feeling happy. Oh, why the devil did such a horrid man have such a charming… she decided not to finish that thought. She was supposed to be in love with Ashley, goddamn it. She decided to hide her pleasure from Rhett (not that it would help) and to act irritated by him. Rhett was just a confidant, nothing more. The only thing that mattered was that someone was now helping her drive that stupid old horse, listening to her talk about business without telling her to sell the mill and engage in more feminine occupations, and most of all understanding everything she said without looking surprised at all by her peculiar ideas. Who else had ever understood her as much as Rhett? Talking to him became a relief and she almost hoped to meet him each time she drove back from the mill after a very stressful day. Almost.

* * *

Gerald was dead. She should have known. She should have known! The dream told her in advance that her poor father would die, and she had been so busy making money that she had entirely forgotten! The details of the nightmare were already becoming hazy, very very hazy now that she tried to wrench some information out of it. She could still remember a little girl called Bonnie Blue, dying on a pony called Mr. Butler. She could remember Rhett leaving her forever. She could remember Melanie, who wanted another baby, dying in childbirth… Melanie. She had to save Melanie. Even if it was too late for Gerald she had to make sure Melanie was safe. 

Dying because she wanted a baby. Why that sounded just like one of those foolish things Melanie would do.

Back in Tara, Scarlett spent more time worrying about Melanie than crying for her pa's death and bickering with Suellen. Her sudden fondness for Melanie was inexplicable for most, and somehow the only one who did not notice any difference in Scarlett's behavior was Melanie herself. All she knew was that Scarlett was mourning, that she was sad and pregnant, and that meant her sister-in-law was most likely more emotional than usual. She did think Scarlett looked at her oddly sometimes, but that was all.

Scarlett spent the totality of Gerald's burial looking at Suellen angrily, looking at Ashley sadly, and looking at Melanie worriedly. She had to keep close to Melanie, she had to protect her somehow, somehow… Oh, it was her fault if Gerald died, she should have paid attention to her dream… No, it was Suellen's fault, how could she manipulate poor old pa when his poor mind was confused by Ellen's death? She didn't deserve Will, not at all… And Ashley, beloved, inaccessible, incomprehensible Ashley. How she wished he could have stayed in the privileged place he had occupied in her heart since fourteen. She wasn't sure about love any longer because of him. God's nightgown, she wasn't certain about anything! She couldn't understand other's feelings even if she tried, and with all this work at the mill lately she barely had time to think about the money she should make, consequently pondering about whether she loved Ashley or not was at the very the bottom of her long to-do list. Maybe when she had the money and security she desired she'd see more clearly. Maybe she would figure it out before that, even.

But by then it would be too late for Melanie and Ashley. They'd be in New York. Ashley would work in some bank and Melanie would be miserable. She then might decide to have another baby, and die far from Georgia with no family or friends surrounding her. But if Ashley had decided to go, how could his wife possibly not follow? Well it only meant that Ashley had to stay if Scarlett was to prevent Melanie's premature death, Scarlett thought. If Melly could stay close to Scarlett she'd make sure to keep an eye on her, and remind her that babies were dangerous, and then she wouldn't have to die. Not that she wouldn't miss Ashley, but Scarlett had decided after painstaking intellectual efforts that Melly just was a better person and should be a bit more recognized for her virtues. The realization had come gradually, from the restless nights she spent staring at the ceiling unable to sleep, Frank snoring softly next to her. It was the only time she could think of the dream, what it meant, why it was slowly becoming true and wrecking her life, and what her fate still held for her. Would she really marry Rhett? Would she really have a lovely daughter called Bonnie? But she had already forgotten most of her future. It had slipped away slowly when she was not paying attention and all she could do was clutch at the remains.

* * *

"Ashley?" 

"Yes Scarlett?"

"Are you really going to New York with Melly and Beau?"

"Absolutely." He stared at her with defeated grey eyes, no hint of surprise in them. Of course, Scarlett knew. Of course she would not let him go without a fight. For a second, Scarlett swiftly remembered why she was in love with this broken man. She might not understand him, he might not be a knight in a shining armor that would whisk her away any second and elope with her, yet she could feel something similar to love in the bottom of her hardened heart. He was mysterious and impossible to understand and such a perfect gentleman, still. However, she now knew he did not share those feelings and it changed things quite a bit between them. She couldn't hurt Melanie, Melly was more important.

"But you can't go!" She yelled louder than she had wished. "You'll be miserable with all those Yankees! So will Melanie! How can you do this to her? And have you even thought of Beau's education? And, and…"

"I can't abuse of your hospitality anymore, Scarlett. It's better for all of us if me and my family would be gone. We've caused you enough trouble as it is and I'm grateful you lodged us for so long." He said it mechanically, as though he had rehearsed his speech countless times before finally reciting it to her.

"But Ashley, I was about to ask you to work at my mill!" Scarlett had no idea where the sudden inspiration had come from. "Please Ashley, I need someone to help me, Frank is too busy with his store to help out and in my condition I can't…" She stopped, I fake blush creeping into her cheeks. "Ashley, you know I will have a baby soon and… well… it would help me lots if I had someone I could trust working for me instead of someone incompetent…"

"How do you know I won't be completely inept?" He asked bitterly. He was right, even she had to admit it.

"Well, you're smart, and it's worth a try, isn't it? I doubt you could do any worse than that fool Hughes Elsing." She was growing desperate and she was beginning to show it.

"Scarlett, I am thankful for your offer, but I simply cannot accept any more kindness from you."

"Why not?" God, Ashley was stubborn. "Did you start despising me? Everyone hates me these days, and you don't want to be associated with me because of my bad reputation, is that it? Why, Ashley, I thought you were an honorable man!" She saw him wince, and felt the smallest bit of remorse for paining him so, but ignored her guilt completely. "Leave, then! After all I've done for you and your family I would have thought you wouldn't refuse if I asked you a little favor!"

She cried from a lack of better thing to do.

"Now, Scarlett, don't cry, it's not what meant at all!" Ashley looked lost. Maybe her feeble blabbering about honor and ingratitude was working on him.

"If I go to Atlanta and work for you, I'm lost forever." He whispered. "If I go to Atlanta and take help from you again, I bury forever any hope of ever standing alone."

Honor, honor, always honor. How could honor save his wife?

"Please don't go. Stay for Melanie, and for me. Please, I beg you Ashley. If it's only honor that's stopping you…"

"Not just honor, no." His eyes burrowed into her meaningfully.

"Oh that?" She said. Irritation was creeping back quickly. He still expected her to jump all over him now that she knew Ashley did not love her back? "Well, I promise I'll leave you alone. As long as you don't kiss me, I won't touch you either."

"How do you know I won't kiss you? No, as soon as Will and Suellen are married, we'll go."

Scarlett burst into wild crying. Surely, Melanie would come in soon and save the day? Incredibly she did, bursting into the room her eyes wide open with alarm to Scarlett's great relief.

"Oh, Ashley, what have you done to her? What have you said? How could you? You might bring the baby! There my darling, what is wrong?"

Scarlett smiled inwardly. Thank God for Melanie. What would she do without her?

* * *

_I tried to update fast but in the end I still took too long. Dang it. The fact that the chapter's totally uninteresting doesn't help my writer's block either. Hopefully next one will be a bit better. Everything's always more interesting if Rhett's in it, just much harder to write._

_Oh, and if you think I jumped over too much stuff tell me please. Or you can flame me and tell me it sux but people here are generally too nice for that. _


	5. Chapter 5

_I am so completely out of inspiration that I don't even know what to write for the author's note. I wish summer was here already._

* * *

Ella Lorena looked so much like Frank that even Scarlett was surprised by the resemblance. The nose, the eyes, even the hair. She had not expected the baby to be much of a beauty, considering the physique of the father, but still, she was slightly disappointed her daughter did not look even the slightest bit like herself.

But Scarlett had more important things to do than lament over her child's homeliness. She had to earn money, and earn it fast. Now that she was finally able to get out of her home, she could fire Hughes and replace him with somebody who'd do the job properly, somebody like Johnnie Gallegher. Then she'd hire some convicts and make much more than she did with the free Negroes. (But of course she wouldn't let Johnnie work those convicts to death. She'd make sure of that.)

At least that was the plan. But before taking care of her precious mills, she had to find somebody to drive her buggy, that way Frank would stop fussing over the fact that a pretty little woman going outside all alone was unbearably dangerous. Preferably not Archie, but if it had to be him she'd be willing to take him for a short while, to calm Frank, before hiring a better driver.

Oh, and there was also Melanie. She so wanted a child, and what could Scarlett do to convince her giving birth was far too dangerous? Not much. Each time Scarlett breached the subject Melanie blushed and answered "Of course darling, you are right. I understand completely." To whatever Scarlett told her. Scarlett felt Melanie was not listening to her warnings about painful miscarriages, but daydreaming about the dozen little babies she wanted to raise in addition to Beau. And Ashley was losing so much money! And Rhett, he still hadn't come back from wherever he currently was. God's nightgown, she had so many problems!

* * *

Scarlett was sitting on the porch with her new baby while Rhett walked jauntily across the yard to meet her, looking swarthier and more elegant than ever. Scarlett smiled at him sweetly and deliberately, as though she already knew she would meet him today. As a matter of fact, she did.

"A new baby! Why Scarlett, this is a surprise!" He laughed, pushing the blanket away from Ella Lorena's ugly little face.

Scarlett tried to feel irritated by the dripping sarcasm in his voice, but how could she? She had missed him so! Although there really shouldn't be a lot to miss about Rhett except the consideration he gave her. The rest of it, the teasing, the impertinence, the way he always had the upper hand in quarrels, were purely exasperating, yet for some reason she had missed the exasperating things too.

"Don't be silly. And she's a girl, so don't you make any stupid comments about how she needs to grow whiskers to look just like Frank." Rhett chuckled.

"Oh no, not at all. She looks entirely like you. You'd be lovely even if you had whiskers, my dear," he replied. Scarlett giggled uncontrollably.

"Oh, Rhett, how have you been? Did you have a nice trip to New Orleans?"

Rhett stayed silent for a moment. She realized he looked at her with suspicion. "How did you know I went to New Orleans?" He asked.

Scarlett bit her lips. "Rumors, you know," she replied with contrived cheerfulness. "The Old Guard can't stop gossiping about things that just aren't their business. I don't know where they got it from, but it seems they are right this time. Why do you go there so often? Do you really have a sweetheart in Louisiana like they say?"

He caught her gaze and held it until a little blush crept into her cheeks.

"Would it matter much to you if I did?"

"Well, I should hate to lose your friendship," she said primly, and with an attempt to appear disinterested, pulled the blanket closer to Ella's head.

He laughed shortly. "Darling, if I ever marry it will be because I couldn't get the woman I wanted any other way. And I've yet to meet…"

"I know, I know, you're not a marrying man." She desperately tried to think of some other subject for discussion. Thinking of Rhett marrying anyone, even herself, especially herself, made her nervous. For some unfathomable reason, she didn't want Rhett to mention the little boy he visited either. Although the curiosity was killing her, she had the uneasy feeling that it was one of those things it was better for her not to know. "Well, what else did you do? You haven't been in New Orleans all this time, have you?"

"No, for the last month I've been in Charleston. My father died."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm sure he wasn't sorry to die, and I'm sure I'm not sorry she's dead."

Scarlett had never thought about Rhett's past before. Even if she was more familiar with him than most everybody in town, she couldn't help feeling that the man sitting in front of her talking about his mother and his sister's wretched conditions because of his father was a stranger. Rhett laughed at her or made fun of her, became angry at her or even protected her from time to time, but he never, never talked about his past. She knew nothing of his background except the rumors circulating about the girl he had taken buggy riding years ago and whispers about how he had been a professional gambler. She didn't think he had ever talked to her so seriously about himself and his family before. And even more surprisingly, her aunt had given charity to Rhett's family. Rhett's family!

"Good heavens Rhett," she didn't want to sound rude, but it was hard not to. "Aunt 'Lalie hasn't got anything above what I send her! If I'd known she was supporting your mother…"

"How unkind of you to mention this just to disgrace me further! You must let me reimburse you."

"Oh, no, there's no need. I admit I don't have the means to sustain half of Charleston like my aunts appear to believe, but what kind of a person would I be if I accepted your payment for such a thing as that?"

"You'd be a selfish, greedy little hellcat. Which you are." He said it with such tenderness that Scarlett nearly did not get mad at him. Tenderness? No, it was not tenderness. Amusement, probably.

"Rhett, if insulting me is the only thing you can do after being gone for so long, then I wouldn't care if you made a voyage to hell and never came back again."

"I certainly will. Care to join me?"

"Care to join… Oh, how dare you, you scoundrel!" She shouted as Rhett laughed uproariously.

"Now, now, Scarlett, don't let's be angry at each other."

"How can I not be angry when all you do is mocking me?"

"The reason I came, my dear, is because _I_ am angry at _you_. Although I do appreciate your delightful presence, I occasionally visit you for more serious reasons than pleasant bickering." Scarlett gaped at him without a word. Surely Rhett was simply having fun at her expense as usual.

"Don't play the irreproachable innocent." Rhett continued, although he was clearly amused by Scarlett's face. "You know plain well what I'm talking about. When I lent you my cash, my only condition was for you not to spend a dime of it on Ashley Wilkes. I even waived the interest, a rare gesture of benevolence, considering it's coming from me. Yet you still managed to somehow break your promise. You cannot imagine my surprise when I met Mrs. Wilkes and she informed me of the immense kindness you showed her family. Is Ashley Wilkes really worth it?"

"You are mad for _that_?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

Scarlett almost grinned. "Oh no, I didn't do it to help Ashley."

"Why did you employ him then? For Melanie, perhaps? Honestly Scarlett, do you believe I would fall for such clumsy lies? You hired Ashley because of your pitiful schoolgirl infatuation on the unfortunate man when he would be much better off by himself, without your tormenting. At least he would have some pride left, then. Instead he is condemned in living the rest of his life with his head bowed in shame. Tell me, how exactly did you coerce him into taking the job?"

"I do not have a pitiful schoolgirl infatuation with Ashley!"

"That hardly answers my question."

"I… How can you… I thought…" Scarlett stammered.

"I feel it is my duty to inform you that in the future, you shall not receive any more loans from me. Hell, I don't understand why I even trusted you in the first place. Do you have any further comments?"

"Rhett, I didn't do it for Ashley, I really didn't!"

"I thought not. Have a good day." Rhett stood up and put his hat on.

"No wait, I really didn't hire Ashley because I love him, I just, I had to save Melanie! Don't you understand?" Scarlett said frenetically.

"Are you so desperate for money? I expected you to have more pride than this. Why don't you borrow from somebody else equally rich, my dear? Haven't you made any Yankee friends by now?"

"Fiddle-dee-dee, I don't care about the money, it's… Well, all right, I do care about the money but it's not just that. It's about Melanie, she so wants another child, we can't allow such a thing to happen, and you know it. She'd die! Melanie can't die! And I, I, if Ashley stays in Atlanta I can keep an eye on her and then maybe she won't die. Even if she does die, at least she will die in Georgia, at home, not in some filthy town up north. And… You don't believe me, do you?

Rhett fixed her with his usual impenetrable eyes. He looked fairly uninterested. "No Scarlett, I don't believe you."

"Oh Rhett, you have to, I'm telling you the truth…" But why did she care if Rhett did not believe her? These were her problems, and it was absolutely none of his business. Still, to be called a liar when for once she was actually-

"Do you still love Ashley?" Rhett asked brusquely.

Slightly taken aback, she looked up at his face. He was completely expressionless, yet his glare frightened her. She looked down again, uncertain on how to reply. "Why do you care?" She grumbled back gruffly, toying with the corner of the blanket draped around her child.

"Do you still love him?" He asked again, more urgently. He took a step towards her. "Look at me, Scarlett."

Scarlett still looked down. "I don't know. I just don't know. That's all."

"You don't know."

"No, I still don't."

"How can you not know whether you love a man?"

"For Lord's sake, why does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't." He beamed a little. Scarlett hadn't even realized she had been holding her breath. He took a last look at Ella, putting out a finger for the child to grip. "I suppose Frank is bursting with pride?"

"Oh, Of course."

"Has a lot of plans for this baby, I suppose?"

"Oh, well, you know how silly men are about their babies."

"Well tell him," said Rhett and stopped short, an odd look on his face, "tell him if he wants to see his plans for his child to work out, he'd better stay home at night more often than he's doing."

An icy chill went down Scarlett's back. It couldn't be. Not Frank, who was so spineless. "Frank is not in the Ku Klux Klan, is he Rhett?"

"I'm a cad, dearest. I'm not respectable enough to be familiar with what fine gentlemen do during evenings."

"But do you think he is?"

"The Yankees suspect him. It's all I can say."

"What about Ashley, is he in the Ku Klux Klan too?" Rhett's expression became sullen. She immediately regretted asking this question.

"Always Ashley," he whispered and was silent for a moment. His eyes were dark and cold, like rocks stained in ink.

"Take care, Scarlett," he finally said wearily, after fixing her for what felt like an eternity.

"Rhett?" she called softly. He ignored her. He turned, went down the steps, and left Scarlett more disoriented than ever as she watched his tall figure disappear from sight on his big black horse.

* * *

_I managed to write through the block. Hurray for me. I'm not sure I really like the result, but it's passable and I haven't updated for way too long. So there you go. I'm going to bed. -dies-  
_


	6. Chapter 6

_Nope, I ain't dead. Because of my absolutely wonderful vacation, I'm able to work on this sucker a little. Also, thank you Jade for pointing out my mistake. I don't know which one's right but I believe you. Blame the French, everything's always their fault. By the way, I need to go beta hunting. Anybody know a nice beta? Or want to be my beta? Or know how to get one? Please? I'm starting to get a little desperate here._

* * *

Scarlett was riding to the saw mills alone, as usual. She had promised herself she would find herself a new driver and wouldn't put Atlanta's gentlemen in danger, but time had passed and she never seemed to have enough of it to worry about her own physical security, even less about others. There was money to be made, and it remained the most important thing to her.

Scarlett found it difficult to fight against the evil things her dream had predicted. It was impossible to be a kind person when she was in such financial difficulties. She knew plain well she would kill Frank at this rate, and she knew plain well she neglected her children, and she knew even better that falling in love with Rhett Butler was dangerous, yet… Wait, what about Rhett Butler? How strange that he always popped up in her thoughts. Anyhow, the only good thing she'd done these days, except for gaining money, was to tell Johnnie Gallegher not to starve the poor men working at the mills. Her words had been "Johnnie, I don't care if you insult your men, and you can even lick them once in a while if they don't work properly, but don't starve them. They don't work well when you starve them." Johnnie had struggled a little, but to her relief he had accepted. And as far as she could tell, the prisoners were well fed. Unhappy but well fed. God knew she didn't need a murderer's death on her conscience.

As she passed the dirty shacks that made up shanty town, she felt fear well up inside her, as usual. What if today was the day Big Sam would appear? She thought about it every day she rode the buggy alone on this road without Rhett. As aggravating as his presence usually was, he could at least protect her. Unfortunately she hadn't seen him since the day they had had the conversation on her porch. Maybe he was on another of his never-ending trips to New Orleans, or New York, or heaven knows where.

Big Sam interrupted her musings by springing out from no where and scaring the life out of her. She nervously pulled the gun out, already knowing that it was only Sam, she wouldn't need to use it, yet aiming at his big brown frame just the same with her slightly shaky hands.

"Lawd, Miss Scarlett, doan shoot Big Sam!" he hollered.

"Big Sam," she said nervously, taking the gun out of his face. "I, how nice to see you…" she stammered. Suddenly she felt tired. Oh, so tired. She almost wanted to just leave Sam where he was and go on her way, but of course she couldn't do something as cruel. Sam was a good Negro, she was responsible for his safety, and he was as much a part of the family as Mammy, Pork and Dilcey. She had to figure a way to get him out of there without having her husband die on her in the process.

If Rhett was in town, she might be able to get to him, but then again Rhett had acted so strangely during their last conversation that she was sure he could only refuse. Not that she would know where he was this time of the day. Doing business with Yankees, and carpetbaggers, maybe. The probability of Archie accepting to drive Scarlett's buggy was close to none, and Scarlett didn't want to talk to talk to that old scumbag even if she died. Frank was too busy at the store and too much of a ninny to accept, what's more he was the reason she was getting worried in the first place. If he chauffeured her and they were attacked, he'd die for sure, while with another driver she wouldn't have as much trouble convincing him not to go kill Negroes with the Klan. Uncle Peter… Maybe. She'd try Uncle Peter. She wasn't on bad terms with Uncle Peter yet, although he disapproved of her, but who didn't these days? If she begged sufficiently, she couldn't see why he'd refuse.

* * *

"Ma'am, Ah see two trashy lookin' men comin' up in de middle of de road, an' dey look lak dey's gonna block de way."

"Just drive right on, Peter, don't worry about them."

"Yassum. But dey sho look fierce lak, Miss Scarlett. What if dey tries ter rob us?"

"Just drive. Drive quickly." Panic coursed through her veins. Apparently Uncle Peter wasn't enough to ward those brigands off. What now? For the second time that day, she pulled her gun out, almost unconsciously. Her mind was blank with fear.

"Nothing will happen to me, Sam will come soon", she thought desperately.

The white man threw up his hand in front of the buggy, scaring Peter and the horse, and yelled "Lady, can you give me a quarter, I'm sure hungry."

"Oh Gawd," Uncle Peter whispered.

"Get out of my way," Scarlett answered angrily. She swiftly aimed and shot at him, not caring about whether or not she shot the horse, and to her satisfaction the man fell to the ground screaming and cursing. Scarlett didn't know where she had hit him, but judging by the blood it must have been somewhere around the chest area. The black man looked dazed for a millisecond, but quickly regained his composure and climbed on the vehicle before it started again. Scarlett felt another wave of panic as the man wrenched the gun out of her hand. Big Sam. Where was he? Where was he?

But before Scarlett, Uncle Peter, or the Negro could move, Big Sam had already climbed on the buggy, incredibly quickly for a man of his size, making the other black man jump off and flee. Scarlett could tell he was gone by the disappearance of his disgusting smell by her side. Sam tackled the man with extraordinary ease and proceeded to beat the thief to a pulp while his mistress sat there stupidly, dazed. But Peter, unlike her, immediately took over the reins and whipped the horse ferociously, his face full of fear. The horse started at a wild gallop, threatening to throw them all in a ditch. Scarlett almost sobbed in terror while Sam ran behind, shouting at them to stop.

* * *

"Frank, you can't go!"

"Sugar, calm down, you're not really hurt. I know you are scared…"

"It's not about that! I just can't go and let you kill yourself. You said you weren't in the Klan! All this time you were lying to me! I swear, if you go, I'll, I'll scream and cry, and, and, I just won't let you go, you hear?"

"This is men's business. You couldn't possibly comprehend," he replied dryly. She could swear he had the exact same expression as when Tony had barged into their house in the middle of the night. Fussy, boneless Frank, looking distant, and dignified, and almost noble, with this air he had only when he was doing men's business, business that women couldn't understand, business for the South, for his home. And it was only then that Scarlett admitted to herself that nothing she could do would change his mind. He was going to die for her, and for something far more important than her whether she liked it or not.

* * *

Rhett came and went. Captain Jaffery came and went. Archie spat loudly and all three of them sewed while Melanie provided all the talking with her soft voice. The tension was palpable, and Scarlett felt the concern for the town's gentlemen flowing from both the women sitting with her. She worried with them, one minute persuading herself the dream was wrong, and the other persuading herself the dream was right. For once in her life, she understood Melanie, and even India a little.

Melanie's soft voice droned on and on for what seemed like eternity. Scarlett couldn't stand her smooth voice anymore. She wanted her voice to falter and stop, for something to happen and break up the tense atmosphere enveloping them. Yet when her torment ends abruptly, and she knew it would happen too soon, Frank would be dead. Frank and Tommy as well. Ashley would have a horrible wound, Melanie would faint, Yankee soldiers would come in the house. Scarlett didn't think she was good enough of an actress to lie through all this. Maybe she should faint too, just in case?

Then she heard a voice singing. Rhett's voice. A sound of horses feet accompanied him. Soon, some other blurred voices joined him, the song grew louder and the trotting sound grew closer. It was the most frightening sound she had ever heard. Scarlett closed her eyes as the Yankees on the porch scampered about.

Melanie gave the ladies one last look full of worry before standing up and throwing the door open. Scarlett had never imagined Melanie could look so furious or have such venom in her voice. If she hadn't known any better she might have been completely fooled by her. Rhett, Hugh Elsing, and Ashley, who's face looked particularly awful, came in the door. Melanie was yelling at the Yankee Captain, yelling at Captain Butler, yelling at Hugh, Melly who never raised her voice and never became angry. She really was convincing. They were all very convincing

Nevertheless Scarlett interrupted them. She had to make sure she'd murdered her husband, as she suspected.

"Rhett." They turned to her, surprised. She hadn't said a word that night.

Rhett smiled at her in what was supposed to be a drunken manner. "How can I help you Mrs. Kennedy?"

"Where is Frank? Was he with you?"

She knew she must be deadly pale. Rhett's piercing black eyes stayed on her face. For a short moment, just a second, Rhett seemed to drop his act. Either that or she had somehow managed to see through his disguise. She didn't know or care which it was.

Frank was dead.

But Rhett quickly regained his jovial attitude before anyone else was able to notice, and replied "Oh yes, he was with me. At least I'm fairly certain I saw him sometime this evening, though I'm afraid I became a bit too tipsy to inform you of his present whereabouts."

"He said he was going to a political meeting. He swore he wasn't… I should have known. I should have known all along. How could I..." Tears started to blind her. She sat down heavily on the settee. Every single person in the room looked at her with flabbergasted expressions, even Ashley, even the Yankees, even Rhett.

She had killed him. Killed him. How strange that she should feel so horrible about it, when she had never even loved the man. Why hadn't she felt any shred of guilt at shooting a Yankee soldier in the face? Why was she weeping her eyes out when she had only killed Frank… indirectly? Accidentally? It couldn't be accidental when she had known all along her husband would die because of her actions. God, guilt was the worst thing ever.

"Oh, my darling," Melanie whispered. "Pull yourself together, dear, Ashley got himself drunk too, you see? I understand how awful you feel, but we have to be strong. Now don't cry… "

Melanie sighed. Scarlett ignored her.

"Nevermind Mr. Kennedy for now. I have to arrest Mr. Wilkes…" The Yankee man said.

Scarlett felt somebody's hand on her shoulder. She looked up. It was Melanie's. She hugged her sister-in-law and was about to thank her when Rhett said "No, Tom not tonight, those two were with me tonight. Ever since eight O' Clock when they were supposed to be at the meeting." Melanie perked up.

"With you Rhett? But where were you?" Melanie said in the most convincing of ways. When Melanie fainted, Scarlett finally stopped her crying. She got up, and started fanning her with aunt Pitty, wiping her tears hurriedly from her face. Then, suddenly, the Yankees were gone. When the Yankees finally went away, Melanie could finally take care of her Ashley's injury, and Rhett at last found himself alone with Scarlett in the parlor.

"He's dead isn't he?" She whispered. The gentleness emanating from him frightened her.

"Yes," he replied a bit too bluntly. "He's dead."

Scarlett said nothing. She was standing in front of the fire and shivering just the same. She wrapped her arms around thin frame as though she were cold. Her gaze fell to the ground.

"How are you?" Rhett said, breaking the silence.

"I've been better."

"I should probably get going, Scarlett. Tell Miss Wilkes that I…"

"Rhett."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For what? Why?"

"I don't know. Just… I don't know. Thank you. For everything." Her voice was quiet and shaky. It didn't sound like her at all to be this shaky.

"My dear, are you feeling well? You look frighteningly pale." Why, he seemed genuinely worried. How uncharacteristically sweet of him. Maybe he was fearful for her sanity after seeing her weep like a baby in front of complete strangers who happened to be Yankee soldiers.

"You should go, Rhett."

"Yes. I should. After supposedly getting so drunk tonight it would be wise to go back to my room and… Scarlett?" She was crying. Again.

"I'm all fine. Really." She sobbed. She tried to hide her eyes from him with her handkerchief, but he took her hands away from her face and slowly wiped her cheeks with his thumbs.

"You are most definitely not all fine," he murmured. "The last time I've seen you in tears your sister-in-law had just given birth and an army was coming in to invade the city."

"My husband died. I killed him. Don't you think I should cry?"

"Somebody else might, not you. You should be worried all over for Ashley Wilkes' injury."

"He doesn't need me." Another awkward silence followed.

"Well, good night, darling." He finally said. He was gone before she even realized he had left her side. She sat down in front of the fire, feeling even colder and unbearably lonely.

* * *

_I'm not extremely happy with it, especially the beginning, the end, and the middle, but I seriously couldn't come up with anything better either. I'll try to squeeze out another update before I go back to Canada, but no promises. Also Uncle Peter doesn't hate Scarlett because he's never been Scarlett's driver before in this story.  
_


	7. Chapter 7

_If this chapter is better than usual, it's because I got a brand new beta, PrincessAlica. It's all her fault. Yes, she's wonderful, I agree.  
_

* * *

The house was far too quiet. Scarlett felt threatened by the heavy silence. Melanie, as thoughtful as usual, had made sure Scarlett wouldn't be bothered by Wade and Ella's racket, and had brought the children home with her. Pitty did her absolute best not to make any sound. It already felt like an eternity since the last time she had seen or even heard any living being. And the worst thing that could happen to her at this point was to go on thinking about Frank with nothing to distract her from her sinister reflections but alcohol. Maybe she should just take a nap and forget everything for a little while, although she couldn't see how in the world she'd ever fall asleep when she was in such a state.

And so, Scarlett had once again taken refuge in Aunt Pitty's swoon bottle. But strangely, even brandy didn't help today. She could not drive Frank from her mind. At least if she became drunk,( allowing the alcohol to numb her), she would fall asleep more easily… The town was most likely talking about her right now, how she had killed her own husband, and that nice boy, Tommy Wellburn, leaving behind yet another Confererate widow. But she had to ignore them and make more money, even though making money had killed her husband and destroyed her last shreds of respectability.

Who knew what future held for her now? She had nobody to look after her store anymore; she needed to hire someone new immediately. She was sure Frank's death would bring about some financial instability, as useless as he was. She was going to face the possibility of not having enough money again unless she married Rhett Butler. She considered this… naturally she would have to refuse his advances. Marrying him would be the mistake of her life. Momentarily she was aghast! Why, she was in love with Ashley, how could she even think about marrying Rhett? For a moment she thought of the dream… was she in love with Ashley? She sighed and took another swig from the bottle. The answer glared at her, revealing in harsh reality that truth was that she did not. Oddly, she felt completely indifferent about Ashley's wound, but if he had died she would feel guilty about him too, just like her feelings for Frank right now. She was guilty but not crestfallen, as real a lover would be. Rhett would be so glad, so arrogantly prideful if he learned this. For a moment she was horror struck, she had compared Ashley with Frank! If she had known years ago her scorching passion for Ashley could evaporate so easily, she never would have bothered with him in the first place. No, the only thing that mattered to her now was her money and her family. She'd find a way to earn some cash with her mills, and she'd make sure Melly did not become pregnant again, and she'd make sure Tara was running fine, and she'd make sure Wade would become rich and well-mannered while Ella married somebody brave enough to give her a good life. And she'd never, ever, marry again, even if Rhett Butler knocked on her door this very second with his millions to offer her.

Her hand jerked in surprise as another flash of that dream returned, and she nearly spilled the brandy on the floor. Great Balls of Fire! Rhett Butler. He was coming today. God's nightgown, how in the world should she speak to him in a state like this? She quickly hid the bottle of liquor in a drawer and passed a brush through her hair with limited results. What about the smell? Cologne? Something told her cologne would not work. She tried the cologne anyway, knowing Rhett would not only notice she was drinking but also that she tried to hide it. But never mind that, more importantly, what in the world would she say to him? Her jaw was set with determination as she decided the only thing she could possibly tell him was to leave her alone. Her life was enough of a tragedy without a union with Rhett, a miscarriage, and a four year old child dying in a pony accident. But Rhett never took no for an answer.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. God, she looked awful. And Rhett would probably be a cad enough to make fun of her. She was still debating whether to put rouge on her cheeks when she heard hammering on the door and voices downstairs. She recognized his voice immediately, as the deep voice with the drawling accent could belong to no one but Rhett. For a wild second of panic, Scarlett wondered if she should even see him. Then again, Rhett would think she was a coward. She could not let such a thing happen. She was no coward. She had never been a coward.

Scarlett ran into the hall a little unsteadily, and yelled "I'm coming down Rhett!" while clambering down the stairs as quickly as possible without running. Poor Pitty looked absolutely flabbergasted as Scarlett and Rhett locked themselves in the library without the slightest trace of hesitation.

"It's no good Scarlett," he commented while closing the door.

"What?"

"The cologne."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"I'm sure you do. You've been drinking. And quite heavily by the scent of it. May I sit?" He sat down heavily on the couch sooner than she could answer. She did the same, scowling slightly.

"Well, what if I have? Is it any of your business? You must drink twice as much as me, you skunk, and we both know it," she snapped.

"Watch your temper. I haven't even provoked you yet, and already you are insulting me. Oh, and don't drink alone, Scarlett. People always find out and it ruins your reputation."

"I haven't got anybody to drink with," she grumbled.

"Have you considered discontinuing drinking in secret altogether? It's quite an unladylike activity." He smiled. "Not that it has stopped you before." His white teeth gleamed in a sardonic, amused grin.

"Oh, Rhett, I couldn't care less. My reputation is already in tatters. Nothing could possibly make my life worse at this point."

"What's the matter honey?" He took her hand, at the moment, he seemed oddly gentle. "Can't you tell me? It's more than old Frank leaving you? Do you need money?"

If anybody but Rhett had told her such a thing, she would have been sure it was compassion in his voice. She took her hand out of his grasp hurriedly. The idea of him proposing… But he was acting so nice, for once!

"It's not money. I don't have any troubles with money."

"That's certainly good news. What is it then?"

"My husband died! I killed him! I feel awful because of it, that's all."

"Don't tell me you loved old Frank. My esteem for you will lower significantly and I simply can't picture you and Frank… My imagination can't take such abuse, my dear."

"I didn't love him, silly, of course not. I just feel very confused… and guilty. I think I mostly feel guilty."

"Why Scarlett, you do have a conscience after all. What incredible news. I was certain such an ignominy would never befall a woman like you. I was ready to bet on it, even. The apocalypse must be nearing." He chuckled softly at the expression on her face.

"For God's sake Rhett, stop teasing," she retorted back. But Scarlett, as usual, couldn't help but smile.

"Is it all? You feel guilty for killing Frank?" He said it as though it was but a mere trifle.

"Well no. I feel terrible for killing him, and because I will go to hell for murdering him, and because if my mother wasn't dead already, It'd kill her to learn what I did, and I'm nothing like her at all," Scarlett felt tears running down her face at this point. "And she'd be so disappointed if she knew, and I just regret what I've done so much. It felt right when I was doing it, I swear, I didn't know what else to do but to get Uncle Peter to drive, and I tried to tell Frank not to go, I thought he would listen to me, but he didn't and now he's dead. Oh Rhett, if I had it to do over again, I'd do it so diff…" But she didn't. She didn't do any differently. She had had a second chance and she had done the exact thing she shouldn't have for her mills and her money. She had had a second chance, and instead of taking advantage of it, she had wasted it. The tears had stopped rolling on her cheeks. She didn't know what Rhett could possibly be thinking, watching her stop in mid-sentence with a thunderstruck expression on her face, as though she had seen a ghost.

"Scarlett?" he asked.

"Please go, Rhett. I feel tired," she told him with a sigh. She had to get rid of him. If she didn't, he'd propose, and then she had no idea what could possibly happen. She felt too weary to refuse, to fight him. And if he stayed she'd have to.

"Darling, you look even worse than before and frankly at the time that seemed impossible. What is it Scarlett, what was it that could possibly be so terrible?"

"Everything's terrible. I feel worse than ever Rhett. Couldn't you just leave me alone… from now on?"

"Now, now, no need to mope all by yourself. It was not completely your fault your husband was killed. You say you'd do differently if you were given a second chance. But would you? We both know you'd do the same thing again. Did you have any other choice but to marry him and make his life a living hell? It was that or starving."

"I did have a choice," she answered so quietly she doubted he heard her. "I'm sorry Rhett," she said a bit louder, "but I have to ask you to leave now. I have a migraine, and I absolutely need to go to bed."

"How utterly depressing you are, Scarlett" He stared at her quietly for a moment before continuing, "But before you kick me out for boring you so, may I tell you the good news I came here for? As you might know, I will be leaving soon, and I'd appreciate if you'd just let me get this off my chest before I depart."

"Oh Rhett, I'm sure it can wait until later." Her heart started to race, furiously beating against her ribcage.

"I'm afraid not. I don't have much time before leaving for England. And my news is this," he announced, grinning at her. "I still want you more than any woman I've ever seen, and now that Frank's out of the picture, I thought you'd be interested to know it."

"Rhett! Frank, barely cold in the grave! Now is definitely not the best time to talk about…" He reached over, and took both of her hands in his.

"I am asking you to marry me. Do you want me to kneel down?" His hands were so warm she did not have the strength to pull her own out of his grasp. And his eyes were so warm she did not have the heart to advert his gaze.

"I always intended on having you, Scarlett, since that first day I saw you at Twelve Oaks when you threw that vase and swore and proved that you weren't a lady. But as you and Frank have made a little money, I know you'll never be driven to me again with any interesting propositions of loans and collaterals. So you see, I have no choice but to marry you."

"You know plain well I'll never do that."

"And why not? If you don't marry me, you will throw yourself at any passing man with a little money before I even have time to come back. So I thought, why not me and my money? Really Scarlett, I can't go all my life, waiting to catch you between husbands."

"I… I shall never marry again. The only things I've ever gotten out of the deal are babies and trouble. You wouldn't be any different from Charles or Frank, I just know it."

"But my poor child, you've never really been married!"

"Oh. And I suppose _you _are the only one who can show me the real definition of marriage of course."

"Of course. Our marriage would be much more fun than your previous ones. After all you married a boy and an old man for spite and money. None of these options are optimal."

"As if you have any room to talk, you can't be that much younger than Frank. And anyway, we'd just be worse, if anything."

"Now, how would you know? You never married for fun. And for the record I am _much_ younger than Frank."

"Have you ever married for fun, Rhett?"

"I'm not a marrying man, darling, I've informed you of this long ago. You should be honored I made such an exception for you. But, since marrying for fun isn't enough for your tastes, you can always do it for money. You were ready to throw yourself at me for three hundred, you should be more than happy to do it for a few of my millions."

"I was desperate back then. I'm not anymore. I can perfectly survive without your help, or the help of any other man for that matter. Now, if you'd…"

"Come Scarlett, say you'll marry me when I come back or before God, I won't go. I'll stay around here, and play a guitar under your window every night and sing at the top of my voice and compromise you, so you'll have to marry me to save your reputation."

"What reputation? And what guitar? I bet you don't even play guitar. Now stop…"

"I am a man of many talents, my dear. And no, I will not stop until you give in."

"But I shan't give in!"

"Why not?"

"I told you! I don't want to marry! I don't need to marry! If I marry you, you'll only bring me more misery than ever! And before you mention him, no, it's not because of Ashley. He has nothing to do with this."

"He clearly doesn't."

"I'm through with Ashley. You know why? Because when he was injured yesterday, I realized I didn't care. I felt more worried about killing Frank than all the blood that came out Ashley's arm. It means something. It means I'm through with him. He's left me dangling all my life, giving me false hopes all this time, and all these speeches about honor he serves me every time are getting on my nerves. Seriously. He loves Melanie! He's loved her for years and he still has the nerve to seduce me. Who does he think I am? I don't need him. I don't need men. I'm the one who seduces men, they don't seduce me! I don't feel anything for Ashley anymore, and I swear, next time he meets me, he'll see I don't love him anymore. And maybe I've never even loved him in the first place. Now that I think of it, maybe I didn't love him at all from the beginning. I certainly can't see what's so attractive about him anymore."

She stopped abruptly when she saw the sardonic look on Rhett's face, it clearly reflected an "I told you so" in the smile that was playing on the corners of his lips. It was quite infuriating. She was about to lash out at him with an irritated comment, when she realized such a confession was exactly what Rhett hoped to hear. First of all, she had confirmed she no longer loved Ashley, and second of all, she had completely forgotten about Frank and her guilt, and was concentrating all her strengths on being mad at Ashley. Did Rhett trick her into this? Rhett started chuckling, and Scarlett, although she didn't want to, laughed with him. She could hardly believe how dismal it had been before Rhett had come and cheered her up. Everything was always easier with Rhett around, laughing at your fears and teasing you until you were mad, and slowly making your mood much, much better without you realizing he was the reason for this improvement.

But then he stood up, and pulled her with him. His arms were around her, as hard and strong and utterly safe as on the road to Tara, so long ago. And she knew he would kiss her.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to see Ashley is wrong for you, my pet?"

"Rhett! Let me go!"

"I will if you say yes."

"No!"

He beamed, bent back her head across his arm, and kissed her, softly at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that made a surging tide of warmth course her body, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. His lips parted hers insistently, and in the swimming giddiness he had plunged her in, she kissed him back, even if she had sworn to herself she would not give in to him.

"Say yes," he whispered. She could not believe Rhett was able to utter a sentence with such an amount of tenderness. For a fleeting, beautiful, instant, she almost said yes. But the cold hand of reason dragged her back from this decision. If she acquiesced, Rhett would break her heart, as surely as she had killed Frank. She had already made a mistake, and a terrible one at that, but this time she could make the right decision, even if marrying Rhett seemed like an excellent idea presently.

"No," she finally answered, exhausted. Even _she_ could hear the regret in her voice.

"Why? You don't have any good reason not to. I have as much money as even you can wish for, and I'm a devilishly good-looking fellow according to most ladies I met." He still had a sarcastic edge in his tone, as though he was simply toying with her, and was convinced she would give in any minute if he pushed her long enough.

"I don't want money. I want love." All derision disappeared from his stunned visage. Scarlett had to admit she was just as surprised as he was by what she had blurted out. "Do you love me Rhett?" she went on without thinking. Well, it was a good question, wasn't it? Why else would he care so much about her? Because he was Rhett, that was why. Being unexplainable was part of his charming personality. But if he loved her, and he might… It changed things. She did not know what could possibly be different if he admitted his feelings for her, but she knew, she _knew_ things would not be the same at all between them if there was love involved. Rhett stayed silent, fixing her with a piercing glare, making her uncomfortable.

"No," he replied bluntly. "I don't love you. Love would destroy me. I merely want to possess you and keep you away from other men. That's all there is." She felt his arms slide away from her.

"I see," she replied. Was it disappointment swelling up inside her chest?

"I suppose you don't wish to marry me after all?"

"No. And I suppose you still haven't fallen for the charms that ensnared every male from 6 to 60 that I've encountered after all these years?" her weak attempt at mockery fell flat.

"No. I haven't." he abruptly started towards the closed doors of the library, and she followed him, still inexplicably disappointed at his answer.

"Well, I hope you have a nice trip, Rhett." He did not answer. He entered the hall with Scarlett trailing after him, picked up his gloves and hat, slipped on his coat, all without a word.

He finally opened the door, and as Scarlett was about to say goodbye, suddenly said "I'm not going, Scarlett."

"Pardon me?"

"I'm not going anywhere 'til you accept my proposition."

"Great balls of fire, suppose someone just heard you, Rhett! Will you please stop being so stubborn and go?"

"Will you marry me?"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes!_"

He grinned at the forcefulness of her words. "But I'll be back. And you will change your answer." He bowed gracefully, and was off before Scarlett could say another word. She stood by the doorway for a time without moving, a soft breeze blowing through the open door. Did Rhett mean it when he had told her he did not love her? Worse, did she love him? She had no answer for either question, and they plagued her as she finally turned and went back to her room still pondering the response.

* * *

_By the way, I'm going back to Canada at last (CANADA! MY BELOVED CANADA!) for a month or so, and I don't plan to update at all. So I guess ya'll will have to wait till sometime in August for a new chapter. Sorry. Insert random monologue about how awesome Canada is compared to this place._


	8. Chapter 8

_Yes, I'm alive. Yes, I haven't updated for way way way too long, I completely agree with you. Everything is Tuduvant's fault. I tried to threaten her into updating by telling her I wouldn't do it until she started writing, but as you can see, it didn't really work. You can all go blame her for the delay now. Well, fine, it's not completely her fault, there's also my own laziness and lack of inspiration, as usual. So, yeah, I'm sorry, and hopefully this won't happen again, ever._

* * *

"Melly?"

"Yes, dear?"

"How are you feeling these days?"

"Oh, perfectly fine, thank you."

Scarlett, who had been calling at Melanie's house the umpteenth time, did not appear to believe her.

"You know you can tell me everything, I'm just trying to help you."

"But there isn't anything to tell, Scarlett. I have everything a woman could ever wish for. And it's all because of your kindness."

Well, Melanie did look radiantly happy. She still had the figure of a child which made the threat of a pregnancy seem almost absurd. Was Scarlett worrying for nothing? After all, in her dream Melanie only died many years later.

"Melanie, about you and Ashley…" but before she could utter the question, a question that unfailingly painted her sister-in-laws cheeks crimson with embarrassment and which Scarlett asked so often that it was to the point of nagging, a voice floated in to the room. Someone was here. Obviously it could have been anybody, from Dr. Meade to Mrs. Meriwether, but Scarlett had the unpleasant feeling that somehow, it had to be Rhett. That of course could possibly be a result of an almost sleepless night, as thoughts of him circled in her mind in a never-ending jumble. He was up to no good, there was no boundary that he wouldn't cross, and it worried Scarlett quite a bit. Her imagination detailed scenarios in which Rhett kidnapped Ella or told Melanie of Scarlett's waned attraction to Ashley to force her hand. There was no telling what kind of mischief he might cause. Yet she was still clinging to the hope Rhett was headed for England this very day, and she would have some relative peace for a few more months until the man sailed back.

"Please," she prayed silently, "Lord Almighty, anyone but Rhett. I can't face him now, please, anyone but Rhett, I'll go to Church every Sunday for the whole month if you'd just…"

But it was Rhett. Scarlett cursed internally.

"My, Mrs. Kennedy! What a pleasant surprise," he said in a tone so much like genuine astonishment that anybody else would have been fooled but the woman he was addressing it to.

"Captain Butler. How nice to see you." She muttered through her gritted teeth. He completely ignored her rancor and engaged himself in a passionate discussion on the weather with Melanie while Scarlett desperately racked her brains for a good reason to escape this house as quickly as possible without seeming overtly rude. After exhausting every single mundane subject known to man, Rhett turned towards her with a polite and engaging smile that for some reason seemed dreadfully ominous in her eyes. It seemed as if the challenge she now presented was even more thrilling to him than the time they had spent together during the war when he had pursued her and driven her out of mourning. She appraised him silently, trying to internally steel herself against his beguiling charm, and whatever other scheme he might have concocted.

"Well, did you think of my little proposition, Mrs. Kennedy?"

Scarlett blushed to her hairline, turning her normal ivory skin into an odd magenta. How could he be so ill-bred as to bring this up in this house at this time in front of Melanie? How could he be so untactful and ill-mannered? Surely Rhett was not cruel enough to embarrass her in front of Melanie. But then again, what else had she expected from him?

"Yes," she finally retorted, her voice cool and distant, "I thought about your '_proposition_'. And my answer remains the same."

"How disappointing" he replied, not seeming disappointed in the least. "I was hoping you thought it through, and realized how perfect for each…"

"Rhett!" She bellowed as she turned back to face him. Then she shot a quick glance at Melly, who had a mildly puzzled look on her face. Hopefully, Melly would not catch on to what Rhett was asking.

"I'm afraid I have a cold coming on, and a horrible headache." Scarlett dryly said as she stood up abruptly, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her dress. "I think I will go home and lay down. Melanie, Captain Butler, it was wonderful seeing you."

"Oh, my poor dear, I'm sorry I didn't notice. You've just been through much too much lately-" Melanie managed to say before being interrupted by Rhett

"Mrs. Kennedy, I must insist on accompanying you home, then. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you drive your buggy when you are feeling unwell?" he said matter-of-factly. But there was also a challenge in his voice, as though if she refused it would make it clear she had been lying to Melanie, which then would raise even more questions.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, Mr. Butler." She tried to remain aloof and impersonal, keeping things courteously indifferent. But he was so maddeningly infuriating she hardly could jeep her calm, and getting rid of the man was as impossible as keeping a child away from the cookie jar.

"I insist." He held the door open for her with his usual charming smile.

"Goodbye, Mela…" she managed to blurt out before the door shut behind her. She turned to Rhett with concealed rage. She couldn't start a scene in the middle of the street, as much as she wanted to, but she could not keep her frustration hidden any longer either.

"God's nightgown, Rhett, what in the world do you think you're you doing?"

He placed his hand on her elbows, as if he were supporting an invalid, which Scarlett was not. "I am accompanying you home because of the appalling illness you swiftly developed upon my arrival. How unfortunate of you to catch a cold in May, especially with such lovely weather, don't you think? Of course you are too weak and feeble to drive, I assume."

"Rhett, I live right across the_ back lawn_. I did not need to ride over here and you know it perfectly well, you rascal. And why'd you even propose such a thing? Thank the Lord only Melly was present or else the whole town would be talking about how disgraceful it is for a widow to act like so. Why, it would harm my reputation even more than, than, if I had hired convicts for the mills!

"You do not look sick anymore, my dear."

"What, I looked sick in the first place?" She frowned at him, automatically disliking any negative remark regarding her appearance.

"No."

"Good. Oh, that's not the point. What does Melanie think of me now? Oh, my dear God. This is all your fault!"

"Mrs. Wilkes will simply imagine I am being thoughtful and kind because I pity your poor health. She is likely feeling ashamed of herself not to have noticed you weren't feeling well, too. And since we are already arguing out on the street and that you do not need a ride after all, I shall graciously walk you home. If you faint before we arrive I promise to catch you." There was a faint chuckle that he failed to conceal.

Scarlett started noticing the curious glares she was receiving from the bystanders. How long had she been quarreling with Rhett of the in front Wilkes' house?

"I'm going home alone. You need not accompany me."

"Oh, but I insist. I swore to your good sister-in-law I'd drive you to your house, and the least I could do is make sure you arrive safely on the opposite side of the fence." He was enjoying her discomfiture altogether too much for her liking.

"Rhett, will you stop making my life unbearable?" She pleaded in exasperation.

"Only if you marry me," he simply replied.

"No! It'll only be more unbearable!"

"You don't know that. I have money, and money is one of your favorite things. But of course you are too mule-headed to accept the man who comes with the money. Well, then, if you want to go on being foolishly stubborn I'm afraid I shall continue embarrassing you."

"Oh! You are such a cad! I wonder why I've ever liked you in the first place." She turned her back on him and marched to Aunt Pitty's house as quickly as she could without looking incriminating.

Rhett matched her stride with ease. "Now, now, dear, I'd make a more acceptable husband than Frank, wouldn't I?"

"Go away!" She hissed at him.

"Or are you simply holding out for Ashley?"

She turned back towards him, furious that he would bring up that subject. "_Go away_!" she roared as forcefully as she dared.

"And when exactly did you thoughtlessly decide to marry for love? Love never lasts. If you marry for love, you…" Scarlett opened the front door and slipped inside. She quickly shut it in his face with force.

"How unladylike of you to slam your door on me, Mrs. Kennedy," she heard him shout through the door, "I nevertheless believe you will reconsider your decision soon. I can be quite persuasive with the ladies when I try. Have a nice day." Scarlett leaned against the door, desperately hoping that the silence was an indication that he had finally left. She opened the door slowly after waiting for a minute or so, peeking through the crack to make sure he was gone for good and not merely standing on the porch. She saw no sign of him. She breathed, closed the door, and sighed again. Maybe he was going to leave for England now. Maybe he would give up on her, even, and go on happily as the handsome bachelor he always was.

But she knew plain well she was wrong.

* * *

The morning was slowly getting underway, and Scarlett was about to put the first pin in her hair when she heard shouts coming from outside. At first the sounds were incomprehensible, making her need to strain her ears in an attempt to hear better.

"Mrs. Kennedy? Mrs. Kennedy? Are you up?" Was what she deciphered from the noises. She quickly let her pins fall back into the box and scurried to the window, dreading what awaited her outside.

Regardless of what scenarios she might have dreamed up, Rhett Butler standing on her lawn with a guitar was not at all what she expected to see. Yet she did not feel the least bit surprised. The morning sun glinted on his white teeth, and he wore a forebodingly joyous expression on the face along with his very large grin. The kind of joyous expression he was most likely to wear before doing something he found particularly amusing and the rest of the world found particularly infuriating.

"Great balls of fire, why are you standing on my lawn with a guitar, Rhett? Actually, why are you standing on my lawn at all, didn't I tell you to leave me alone?"

"Ah, but I could no longer stand your absence, my dear Mrs. Kennedy. Every single second that passes, I feel the overwhelming urge to be by your side, and my heart aches as though you clawed it out of my chest with your beautiful little hands every time we say goodbye." A few passersby looked on curiously, and Rhett obviously did not mind their presence at all. In fact he had most likely counted on their presence as an added incentive for her to crumble under his frustrating charm. Some of the onlookers put their heads together, most likely discussing why Captain Butler was standing in front of Scarlett Kennedy's window with a guitar so early in the morning.

"Rhett, please, not in public," Scarlett said almost pleadingly, but it only made Rhett shout louder.

"Oh, my dear Mrs. Kennedy, I know you cannot accept me because of your grief over your husband's death, but I assure you…"

"Rhett!" The man pushed her to her limit every time that she saw him. He was exasperating and infuriating, and unfortunately, utterly charming when he wanted to be. But making fun of Frank's death was taking it too far, even for him.

"… I can wait for you as long as you need, for my patience shall be infinite until you finally concede and tell me yes. Oh, no sweeter word could your charming voice ever pronounce but that one syllable, that one small affirmative word which can put an end to my daily torture and transform it into eternal bliss. And so I beg you, say that extraordinary word, say yes to my humble offer."

"Fiddle-dee-dee, I'll never…"

"For I am the Romeo to your Juliet, the Pertruchio to your Katerina, the Samson to your Delilah, the Charybdis to your Scylla…"

"Will you leave already? I'm sick and tired of your nonsense. My answer is no, and I won't change my mind for all the pretty words in the South!" Scarlett yelled. Should she run outside and usher him away, or should she stay here and hope for a fast retreat from his side?

"Why Mrs. Kennedy, you are a bit tempestuous today. Surely you wouldn't want me to leave without knowing why I brought the guitar?"

"The gui…"

"And surely you remember I threatened you with a serenade? I'm afraid I will have to make good of my threat. Do you have any requests? I sing quite well, you know."

"Oh, Mary mother of God, I beg you don't do this to me," Scarlett whispered.

"Ah, I recall a song we sung, in those faraway days during the war, before the holocaust that befell Atlanta and later its glorious reconstruction. Do you remember, Mrs. Kennedy? You accompanied me on the piano with your charming soprano while I rejoiced in your heavenly company."

There was now a small crowd amassed on the street, intently watching Rhett's loud racket and Scarlett's furious replies. Half of them, the younger half, were laughing, while the other half looked simply scandalized.

Rhett strummed the guitar's strings. "The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home, 'tis summer the darkies are gay," and Rhett really started singing, to the astonishment of most in the crowd. "The corn-top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom, while the birds make music all the day." Scarlett did remember this song. And she remembered singing it with Rhett, a long time ago – a lifetime had passed since then. But she had to admit she was astonished he had remembered it too.

Soon, to Scarlett's horror, a boy slightly scared by own bravery walked up to Rhett and started singing with him, closely followed by another, then a young girl, and in the end what seemed to be far too many people considering how early it still was were performing My Old Kentucky Home on Peach Street, while others walked away shaking their heads with haughty expressions at such a display of debauchery. Even some of the neighbors emerged from their homes to see what the clamor was all about, the former slaves agape at the spectacle.

"Scarlett? Scarlett, what's going on, dear? Why is there such a large amount of gentlemen singing on my lawn?" Scarlett turned around and saw Aunt Pitty standing in the doorway, looking as confused as she felt herself.

"I… don't know," was all she managed to reply. She looked back at the crowd singing under the window, and Rhett was laughing.

He was laughing. Laughing hard. And as she watched the unexpected show unfurling under her, Scarlett gave up and started laughing too. It was one of those moments when everything else fell away and she gave herself up in it. She laughed harder than she had laughed since the beginning of the war, and God did it feel good. Lighthearted, laughter, without a care in the world, as though she was fifteen again, being courted by one of her particularly handsome and funny beaux, dancing through the night, ignorant of such petty things as war or starvation or money troubles. And just for that feeling, Scarlett was suddenly grateful. Even though her husband had died because of her, she had to toil hard to earn her money, and Rhett Butler had sworn to shame her to death unless she became his bride, she still felt incongruously grateful. She was positive this was not Rhett's goal at all, and yet there it was.

"A few more days till we totter on the road, then my old Kentucky home, goodnight!" Rhett played the last chord dramatically, and the improvised chorus surrounding him cheered, and even clapped a few times.

"Scarlett O'Hara!" he called, with the most perfect smile Scarlett had ever seen, "will you please do me the honor of making me the most fortunate man alive and marry me? I can go down on one knee if you want!" Aunt Pittypat squealed, and fainted on Scarlett's bed.

"I…" she looked at all the singers, with happy, expectant, and even slightly rebellious expressions on their faces, who all waited with anticipation for her to acquiesce.

"Captain Butler," she shouted back, "could you come in? I haven't got a lot of experience being proposed by somebody standing under my window with a whole mob surrounding him." The crowd chuckled, albeit with some disappointment, and Scarlett knew that the sewing circles would be able to focus their gossip on Rhett and Scarlett once again, this week. The group slowly dispersed, murmuring to each other and looking back towards Scarlett from time to time, pondering what her answer could be and why she didn't let Captain Butler know immediately. Scarlett thought she might have spotted a few young girls staring at Rhett with envy, but the idea felt so ridiculous she convinced herself she imagined it.

"You know, Mrs. Kennedy, you may simply give me your reply now," he yelled at her when most of the passersby were gone. "There is certainly no need for me to come in, I shall be quite as happy if…"

"Oh, just hurry up and get in," Scarlett snapped, trying to look stern though Rhett's face clearly told her she was failing.

"Mmh, how strange. If my memory is correct, you slammed that very same door on my nose and shrieked at me to go away just yesterday. How quickly you changed your mind! I must definitely be making some progress."

"Oh, you are such an insufferable brute!" Scarlett stomped away from the window, ignoring Pitty who was waking up and looking at Scarlett with unbridled curiosity.

But when she hurried down the stairs, she recognized she had had more fun in these few minutes than in years. Though was that a good enough reason to marry the man? To trade a moment of happiness for years of complete despair? For a fleeting instant, she imagined what it could be like to have Rhett Butler's black eyes gazing at her like she was the only thing that mattered, the only thing he had ever wanted, gazing at her like she was his whole world… Not that he ever would, of course. No, of course he never would.

* * *

_This thing is a bit better than I thought it'd turn out, but considering how low my expectations were, I'm not that surprised either. The second part was fun to write for some reason. I had a couple of people telling me they wanted Rhett to sing, and I liked the idea in the first place too, and it turned out like this somehow. I'm sorry I couldn't include Rhett singing the Titanic song, it's kinda too anachronistic. I was gonna have Scarlett slap him in the end, but that would've been too mean, and he deserves some credit for effort, right? _

_If there are still mistakes, please tell me so I can kill myself. Oh, and hopefully I'll update more often now, but I don't guarantee anything._

_p.s. I don't know if Scarlett will accept either, I haven't thought that far yet. Sorry. If you have any suggestions, though, feel free to share._


	9. Chapter 9

_Last fic of my posting binge. Good Lord it's been a long time. I'm really sorry guys, I just sort of wrote myself into a corner and I had no idea what to write next. I _think_ I know what I'm doing now. Again, I'm really, really sorry for the lack of updates, and hopefully my pitiful excuses are enough to make you guys forgive the long, stupid hiatus. I doubt any of you even remember what the story is about._

_

* * *

  
_

The library door closed behind Scarlett and Rhett for the second time. The difference being that she was now uncertain how to reply to his request when not so long ago her refusal had been adamant.

"Well. Now that we're alone once more, will you gladly marry me Scarlett?" Rhett said as Scarlett turned, nearly colliding with his chest.

"Oh for Lord's sake, be careful Rhett, I almost walked into you! Anyhow, these sorts of decisions take time, and I think you should let me think about it all for a while longer."

"And yet you never hesitated when refusing my offer last time. I am most definitely making progress." Scarlett shook her head dejectedly and made her way to the settee.

"I would appreciate if you could make up your mind quickly," he went on, "As you know, I am awaited in England, and the faster you accept my proposal, the faster I can leave you in peace and attend to my business."

"Just, sit down, Rhett, and we'll talk this over and…"

"In my humble opinion, we have nothing left to argue about. There was plenty enough of yelling last time around."

"Nothing left to argue? You don't love me, and I don't love you, and this marriage could never work in a thousand years and you expect me to suddenly fall in deep passionate love with you because you serenaded me? You expect me to marry a man simply because he acts like a fool?"

"Why, yes. I certainly do."

"Will you just sit down?"

"Now, now, Scarlett, don't get your temper all flared up. You were in such a good mood just last minute. I have to say you haven't laughed so hard in front of me for what feels like eons."

"I haven't laughed in front of anybody for quite a while to be honest. What with all this war, and reconstruction, and poverty everywhere, nobody's laughing anymore except you. You and all that money of yours. It's not like anybody else can afford to be happy."

"You know, I can share all the money I never deserved with a lovely little wife, and then she will be able to laugh at the rest of the wretched world too. You need dresses and parties and dances, and a man who makes you show that pretty dimple of yours. You can't go on living like you did with Frank for the rest of your life. Not when you are given a chance to escape from poverty and be treated properly."

"You've never treated me properly either." She pouted.

He chuckled softly. "Touché, my dear."

"And you don't love me. That's important. I want to marry somebody who loves me, for a change."

Maybe, if Rhett was desperate enough, he'd tell her he loved her. And maybe, if he was quite desperate indeed, he would actually mean it. But this was Rhett, after all, and there was a difference between dreaming about Rhett's unconditional love and hearing him proclaim it with sincerity.

"Ah, my poor Mrs. Kennedy. Who on earth put such foolish notions into your head? Most of the time, you are a relatively smart woman. I cannot deny the fact that you have made awful decisions in the past due to your poor taste husbands, and your unexplainable infatuation with Ashley Wilkes will always remain unexplainable in my eyes, but at the very least you had enough sense not to expect _love_ from your marriages."

"Both my marriages were horrible! And that was because my husbands haven't loved me at all!"

"Oh, but you are direly mistaken. You are the one who never loved your husbands. They were both quite fond of you, as I recall, yet you loathed them in return because of your dear old Mr. Wilkes. If your marriages were horrible, as you state, you had no one to blame but you. As for _love_, God knows it never got nobody anywhere. How you would still yearn for such a sentimental, foolish feeling is beyond me. You need security, my dear, and I assure you I can provide you with it, along with much more. Love will never be enough to keep you happy. You aren't that kind of woman."

When she thought about it, Scarlett had to admit everything Rhett had told her in his drawling, patronizing tone made absolute sense. Of course, she absolutely refused to admit it was true. Rhett only said those warped, twisted, and awful things to confuse her.

"I shan't listen to one more word. You're trying to manipulate me, that's what you're doing. Well it won't work, and I won't marry you."

"I used to have a great deal of respect for you, my dear. No, don't laugh, I sincerely did. For all your ignorance, you possessed a fair amount of common sense most others seem to lack these days. And yet here you are, with your mind corrupted by those utterly nonsensical dreams, when I offer you with a perfectly sensible marriage proposal that has the potential of making us both moderately happy. Face it Scarlett, in your position nobody will marry you for love. You've been widowed twice, you've two children, and as pretty as you still are you'll never see twenty again. With your kind of reputation, what better candidate could you possibly come across?"

"I… I don't _have_ to marry anyone, you are perfectly aware of it. So I just won't get married to anybody anymore."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"What a shame."

"I've made my mind."

They both kept quiet, staring into each other's eyes, trying to guess what the other was thinking.

"Scarlett," he finally murmured, "what is the real reason you so fervently refuse to marry me?" His voice was soft, and much more gentle than necessary. "You want to, and I am not pointing it out purely to be a conceited skunk. We both know I'd make a better husband to you than all the Hamiltons and Kennedys in the world. You don't want to live your whole life worrying over your mills, not when you can easily have access to my fortune. And as much as you would like to deny it, I can make you happy. Why won't you say yes, then?"

Of course, Rhett had seen straight through her pretenses, and was now confronting her and her lies. The man was truly infuriating. She could not possibly tell him about the dream, could she? He would laugh at her, and moreover, the dream was a secret, her secret, something dangerous she had to keep hidden from sight. Maybe she could tell him part of the truth to throw him off…

"You know I'm fond of you, Rhett."

"It certainly is good to hear."

"Will you let me talk? So far my marriages have been… well, complete failures."

"I could not possibly agree more."

"If we get married, I'll hate you in the end, and you'll grow tired of me. You're too old of a friend, and I would hate for such a thing to happen. Also, I'm a little tired of marrying people for money, you know? I'd rather marry a man for love, if only for once, to see what it could be like."

He didn't answer.

"Rhett?"

"You _like_ me too much to marry me?" He chuckled incredulously.

"Well, if you put it that way it does sound rather silly."

"How on earth can you be so sure that we will both grow tired of our marriage? You are entirely too frustrating for me to ever grow tired of you."

"Marriages always end like that."

Especially marriages with Rhett. Marriages with Rhett ended with tears, ponies and dead little girls, miscarriages…

"Following your logic, if you marry a man who loves you, he'll become tired of you too."

"I…" Rhett had loved her in her dream, and he had grown tired of her in the end too, hadn't he? "Well… Maybe. But I'm willing to take that chance," she stubbornly answered.

"Oh, Scarlett," he shook his head, "To be perfectly honest with you, I had expected to make you angry at me to the point where you would have no other choice but to accept simply to prove me wrong. But apparently I won't have to."

He swiftly pulled her against him, and before she could protest her face was already inches away from his. "I love you," he said with a cheeky grin, "There, I said it. Now will you marry me?"

"Yes," Scarlett whispered. She knew Rhett's declaration of love was mocking and insincere, but before she had time to regret her words, the look of surprise on Rhett's face had already disappeared as he feverously kissed her, and it was much too late for her to take it back.

* * *

_Yeah, basically nothing happens. But hopefully this chapter will make me post more often in the future. *crosses fingers*_


	10. Chapter 10

_Pffff. Okay.*stretches fingers* I can totally do this._

_

* * *

  
_

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she was happy. Deliriously, unconditionally happy. She had never expected such happiness from her marriage, or any possible marriage for that matter. Marriage brought nothing but misery to women like her. She knew it from experience.

As a result, her present contentment was truly unexplainable.

As soon as she had accepted his proposal, she had fully expected to regret her decision. Calamities would start heaping on her as soon as she married Rhett. Rhett would start hating her, she would have a miscarriage, Melanie would die, and millions of other dreadful things she would rather not think about would happen to her and her loved ones. But strangely, Rhett was perfectly nice. Nobody had died yet. And for the first time since… she didn't even know how long anymore, she felt carefree. There was no need to fight against the whole entire world when she had Rhett's money to back her up.

And it backed her up marvelously. Her honeymoon had been a romantic whirlwind in New Orleans, full of lavish foods and deep rich wine, people who complimented her on her beauty, and beautiful clothes, and Rhett was always by her side…

It was becoming increasingly difficult to convince herself her new husband was not in love with her.

Sometimes he sat down beside her while she brushed her hair and gently took the comb away from her. Then he passed it through her hair along with his fingers. She could feel the warmth of his large frame behind her back, and she liked the comfortable silence between them. When he was done he kissed her softly on the shoulder, his mustache just a little bit prickly on her sensitive skin. And always, she felt a stirring in her chest that she couldn't quite identify.

But then at other times he mercilessly made fun of her and drove her mad. He teased her whenever she tried to use her naïve southern belle tricks on him, and assured her that she had horrible taste in clothes. Whenever they went out to a restaurant, he would point out that the charming man who had complimented her had almost certainly killed his mother-in-law, or that the gaudily dressed woman they had just talked to was an old courtesan who happened to have a rabbit face. At which point Scarlett couldn't help but giggle at his unabashed frankness, even though he did drive her mad.

When they had talked about a house, Rhett suggested something old fashioned and classical, of course. Scarlett was about to refuse when she remembered the gloomy old prison she had lived in inside her dream. She reluctantly accepted then, hurriedly adding that she didn't want any staircases in the house.

"No staircases?" he asked.

"No."

"Why on earth not, Scarlett?"

"Oh, why can't we have a house with no stairs? I've always wanted one," she pouted.

"It is a rather strange demand. No _staircases_? Are you quite certain?"

"Yes. Stairs are dangerous."

"I'm afraid I cannot fathom how a flight of steps could be harmful to your health, my dear."

"Well, someone could fall down."

"I see. And what is the real reason for your sudden vendetta against staircases?"

"I… but, this _is_ the real reason."

He chuckled. "If you aren't about to tell me, then you will have to deal with the stairs. I still own the checkbook, and I do not hold any grudges against second floors, unlike you." Scarlett wanted to slap the grin off his face.

"Fine. You can have your goddamn stairs," she replied airily, to his surprise. Rhett tried to coax an answer out of her for the next several days, but each time she affirmed that she didn't want anyone to break their neck falling down that thing, that's all.

When she came back to Atlanta, the house was in construction. They were indeed planning on building a staircase. A big one. She had gritted her teeth and said nothing about it.

After supper in her beautiful hotel suite, which she spent in resentful silence, she informed Rhett that she was going to call on Melanie, and that Rhett needn't accompany her.

"Oh, Scarlett, you're back!" Melanie exclaimed when she opened the door. "I'm so glad. How was New Orleans? And Captain Butler?"

"Oh, they're both fine and dandy, Melly."

"Everyone is talking about how grand your new house will be. I _knew_ you would build a beautiful, elegant house, unlike those strange ones the scallywags are living in."

"Thank you," Scarlett replied resentfully.

"Ashley! India! Scarlett is back."

India gave her an icy glare, and greeted her with obvious contempt. Ashley threw her a tired smile and kissed her on the cheek wearily. Scarlett no longer felt jolts of electricity when his lips met her skin. She was proud of herself for that.

Melly seemed as skinny as usual, and Scarlett was glad that she did not become pregnant during her absence. But maybe she should worry about her extreme thinness instead, considering how pale and frail she always looked. Ashley told her about the state of the mills, India studiously ignored her, and everything was as if she had never left Atlanta. Except that Rhett was waiting for her at the hotel, and she was married to him. It seemed almost normal that she should be married to Rhett when she was frolicking in Louisiana, but now, while she was sitting in Melanie's home talking about her honeymoon, it felt surreal.

When she ran out of amusing stories to tell about New Orleans, she headed back to the hotel, feeling a lot less angry at Rhett, but still unwilling to let go of her grudge.

"Why are you so aggravated over those stairs, Scarlett?" was the first thing he told her when she stormed through the door. It instantly made her furious again.

"It's not the stairs, it's you! You never listen to anything I say."

"You, on the other hand, are perfectly obedient, I suppose."

"I shan't listen to another word. I'm going to bed."

"Was Ashley home?" he asked casually, after taking a sip from his glass of brandy.

"Yes, he was home. And he was much nicer to me than you are."

"I see."

Scarlett sat by the mirror and angrily started removing pins from her hair. But then his question sank in.

"Why do you want to know about Ashley?" she shouted from in front of the mirror.

"Because you assured me you were no longer attached to the poor lethargic man," came his response.

"Well I'm not attached to him," she replied with annoyance.

"No, of course."

"I'm not. It's the stairs that have been bothering me, you know it."

"And why are you bothered by the stairs? They're only stairs."

"Because, because…" She sighed. Maybe if she went with a half truth, he would believe her.

"Because I had a dream where I fell down. It was very frightening."

"A _dream_?"

"Yes, I fell down some stairs, and it hurt a lot, and it was dreadful. I know it's a silly reason, and that you would tease me about it if I told you."

"You're right. I most certainly would have teased you about it." There was playfulness in his voice. He believed her. And even if he did not, he was in his normal mood again, and Scarlett suddenly realized that Rhett had been angry at _her_ too when she had come back from Melly's house.

"You are a cad, Rhett," she informed him. But she was trying hard not to beam at her reflection.

She heard his footsteps before she saw him walking towards her.

"We don't need stairs if you don't want them," he said while enveloping her shoulders with his hands.

Scarlett looked at him. Suddenly, all her fears seemed utterly irrational. Why would she have a miscarriage? Why would Rhett ever leave with their daughter? The Rhett in her dream could, but the one she had married would never do such a thing.

"I don't care about the stairs anymore. You can have them," she decided. They really weren't worth arguing so stubbornly for.

"Really?"

"Yes. And I don't appreciate your comments about me and Ashley. Did you really think I would start an affair with Melanie's husband on the day I come back from my honeymoon?"

"A few months ago, I wouldn't have put it past you, Mrs. Butler," he murmured.

Rhett smiled back at her in the mirror. And his eyes were the same as Melanie's when she looked at Ashley.

It really was becoming very difficult to convince herself Rhett was not in love with her.

* * *

_So it's rushed, and I'm sleep deprived, and absolutely nothing happened, but I'm all out of inspiration and I'm hoping this very short update might give me some. There should be some stuff happening in the next chapter, when I get around to writing it. I WILL write it. Maybe. Hopefully._


End file.
